


Like a Finely-honed Blade

by theskywasblue



Category: Saiyuki Gaiden
Genre: Banter, M/M, Sexual Tension, Sparring, Swordplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-09
Updated: 2010-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-10 11:34:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tenpou's soul is in the blade of a sword</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Finely-honed Blade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a_mael](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=a_mael).



> For the prompt: "You're getting better at this"

“You’re getting better at this...”

There’s sweat in Kenren’s eyes, harsh, stinging, and damn it, his arms and back are starting to ache like a fucking bitch, but he’s not about to stop now. Not a chance in fucking hell, not when he’s got Tenpou so close...

He almost doesn’t see the blade, but he sure as hell feels the way it slices the air a fine dick-hair from taking off the end of his nose.

“Fuck, Tenpou!”

“My, my Kenren,” Tenpou pauses, the sword held at arm’s length, right at the end of Kenren’s nose so that he can’t look at it without going cross-eyed, “you really shouldn’t let compliments like that go to your head.”

He’s barely out of breath, the bastard; there isn’t a single tremor in his arm or a trace of hesitation in his gaze. For a moment Kenren thinks he really might have died just then, if his instincts had been just a little blunter – or if lady luck hadn’t put that little pin in his left knee to make him step back a fraction of an inch.

It’s not that Kenren isn’t a good swordsman – far from it. In his basic training days he was near the top of his class. He has just always preferred the gun, the brutal efficiency of it. It’s down and dirty, a lot like Kenren himself, the sort of weapon that doesn’t necessarily play by the rules, but makes them up as it goes along.

Of course, even Kenren will admit that there’s a certain beauty to the sword. Better yet, there’s a definite beauty to Tenpou wielding a sword; his calm concentration and steady, athletic movements. To Tenpou, the sword is not just a weapon, it’s an extension of himself. If Kenren was a little more mystical, he might go so far as to say that Tenpou’s soul is in the blade.

Hell, he might say that anyway.

Kenren brings his sword up, knocks Tenpou’s away, but his own arm feels like a lead weight to lift, with little strength behind it, and in the end he only manages to move Tenpou’s arm because Tenpou lets him do it.

Dropping his arm to his side, Tenpou smiles, “Shall we call this a win for me then?”

“You can call it whatever you want,” Kenren grunts, running a hand across his forehead and through the sweaty mess of his hair, “I need a fucking drink.”

“I suggest the water fountain,” Tenpou wipes the blade of his sword before sheathing it, ever-careful of what is probably his most prized possession aside from his books, “though I know that’s not what you mean at all.”

“Damn right.” Kenren’s own sword is a loaner from the Western Division’s armoury, but he takes the time to wipe the blade down anyway, and to check it for nicks, just as he was taught all those years ago. Tenpou would be ticked otherwise.

“I want sake and a fine meal after this ass-kicking. Serious.”

Tenpou gives him one of those purely indulgent smiles and steps forward so that there is nothing between their bodies but his sheathed sword, with what would otherwise be its deadly tip resting right beneath Kenren’s jaw.

“I promise you, you will get everything you deserve Kenren, particularly after showing me such a good time.”

“I’d better.”

The kiss is barely more than a brush of lips, Kenren’s own sword slips from his hand and clatters to the stone of the courtyard. Tenpou smiles with their noses almost touching; Kenren can smell him, salty and smoky and wild.

“You shouldn’t let yourself be so easily disarmed, General.”

-End-


End file.
